Like What
by TheDevilYouDon't
Summary: A few things he didn't know about her. H/Hr. Mostly Post-DH.


1.

Hermione is shockingly terrible at flying.

He first makes her try after Quidditch practice one day—one of the many she spent watching/reading a book in the stands—and he watches, mouth agape as she barely gets three feet off the ground.

Maybe it's because flying isn't something you can study how to do in a book, but she's absolutely pitiful. So much so, in fact, that Harry offers to fly her around the pitch a few times before the sun sets and she heartily agrees. Because, it's not like she doesn't _like _flying, it's just something she can't do on her own.

So he flies her around the pitch and, when he goes to land back on the ground, he tilts the broom handle down hard and smiles as they rush towards the grass. Hermione gives a startled scream as he pulls the handle back up just in time, wrapping her arms around his middle more tightly and burying her face in his back.

Once they're safely on the ground again, she frowns at him, narrowing her eyes as he slings his broom over his shoulder.

"You only did that on purpose, didn't you?" she demands, crossing her arms and cocking one hip to the side.

He grins because he _did _do it just so she would hold on to him tighter. "Of course not," he says, even though he's nodding his head firmly.

She laughs and uncrosses her arms and takes a step towards him. "Well done, then, Potter." He returns her laugh and she slips her hand into his as they start towards the castle.

2.

Hermione has a television in her bedroom.

He doesn't figure this out until the Christmas after their seventh year—when she takes him to her house for the holidays so that her parents can _finally _meet her boyfriend—but he's more than surprised when he sees it.

It's a small TV, set up on a short bookshelf right across from her bed and he gives her a look when he spots it.

"What?" she asks innocently, sitting down on her bed.

He nods to the TV. "It's just, all these years and I thought you were incapable of watching them or something," he says with a shrug.

She raises one eyebrow and plays with a tiny, stuffed pig on her bed as her eyes run over his face. "Now, why would you think that?"

"One or two things." He nods to all four bookshelves around the edges of the room and she laughs.

"Well, if you're uncomfortable with it, you could always sleep in the guest bedroom, you know," she suggests, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Here I went and convinced my parents to let you stay in here with me for nothing."

"I think I can handle it." He narrows his eyes and crosses the room to her, bending down to kiss her soundly.

It's the last thing he says for a while.

3.

Hermione is extremely grumpy in the morning.

Apparently, it's something that she's never noticed before he brought it up, because she looks at him like he has an extra eye when he tells her this one morning. Her forehead scrunches and she hovers her lips by her mug of tea, turning her back from him so that she's facing the counter. He frowns from his seat at the coffee table because he's gone and made her upset now—something he'd hoped to never do without fixing it immediately.

So he gets up and walks behind her, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her shoulder. "It's adorable," he whispers and she turns around in his arms, looking up at him questioningly. "The way your forehead scrunches up—" He brushes his fingers over her forehead, which immediately relaxes. "—and your frown." He runs his fingers over her lips and she glares at him. "It reminds me how you don't have to _try _to be beautiful. You just always are."

She continues glaring at him, even after he's left the room and started towards the living room, where he sits down and flips on the TV. It isn't even 15 minutes later, though, when she's found him and sits on the seat beside him, curling up against his side.

"I'm sorry I'm so grumpy in the morning," she tells him softly and he presses a kiss onto the crown of her head. "I'm not fully awake until the afternoon." She turns her head up and kisses his ear, lips trailing down his neck.

"It's okay, 'Mione," he assures her, pulling her closer. She swings herself around on the couch and straddles his lap, lips going to his neck again, hands drifting lower. "Good thing we haven't showered yet today," he tells her and she continues kissing and nipping at the soft skin on his neck and jaw.

"Why's that?" she asks, the words muffled against his skin.

He shrugs slightly—careful not to catch her off guard. "I have a feeling we're about to get dirty in a few minutes. Who wants to take two showers in one day?"

Her laugh vibrates against his chest.

4.

Hermione doesn't like him to see her cry.

It's a weakness thing, he thinks, though she's never told him so. Whenever they watch sad movies, she does just fine—tear-free and all that—and when things get bad she's careful to remain strong.

They've never brought it up, but it's always been some sort of spoken agreement that there are some things that she would very rarely do in his presence. Crying was one of them.

So, when they're walking home from the store one night and he drops one of his knees to the sidewalk, pulling out a small, velvet box from his jacket pocket, he's a little surprised when he sees tears sparkling in her eyes. As shocked as he is, he almost forgets the question he'd been planning on asking her and he has to take a second to remember.

"Will you marry me?" has barely left his lips before she's tugging him to his feet and flying into his arms. He smiles a little and wraps his arms around her and, as he does, he realizes that the gentle shake of her shoulders means that she must be crying.

The thought confuses him at first and he starts to think that it might be a bad sign, before he hears her whisper, through her sobs, "Of course, Harry…Of course I'll marry you."

After that, she doesn't really mind his seeing her cry. Especially not when her eyes drift to the small diamond ring, glistening in the light, on her left hand.

5.

Hermione is nearly fluent in Italian.

Sure, there are a few words or sentence structures here and there that she has a hard time with, but, for the most part, she's fluent.

He finds that out on their honeymoon, when they're in Italy, walking around Rome with cameras slung around their necks. She's hungry—and he has to admit that he could go for some food too. So, before he can really get a grip on what she's doing, she walks over to a short, round Italian man, who's sitting on the sidewalk with a little girl and starts speaking to him in his native tongue.

The man points them in the direction of a respectable restaurant nearby and Harry stares at his new wife in awe until they're comfortably seating in the restaurant.

"What?" she asks without looking at him—because she can feel his eyes on her as she looks over the menu in her hands.

"You can speak Italian?" he asks, mouth still slightly agape.

She shrugs. "Sure. My parents wanted me to be more…cultured. So I've taken private lessons every summer since I was 9."

"I can't believe you never told me that you can speak Italian." His eyes are wide as he stares at her, wondering what other skills she might possess that he has no knowledge of.

"I had no idea."

She grins at him widely and he can see a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I'm sure that there are a lot of things you don't know about me yet, husband of mine."

"Like what?" he asks, because she's rarely in a joking manner like this.

There's a slight pause—in which they both have time to breathe—before she quietly says, "I'm pregnant."

His eyes grow wide again and he struggles not to cry. "Really?"

She nods. "Really."

He gets up from his seat and leans down to hug her, tears filling their eyes as the implications of starting a family together settles into their minds, both of them forgetting rather thoroughly about their earlier hunger.


End file.
